Truth Behind the Fiction: Dryer Guy's Exact Change

People often ask me if my books are based on my real life. My sheepish answer is, "Yes and no." My stories as a whole are fiction, but they contain scenarios, here and there, based on real-life happenings in my past (mainly strange, funny, or embarrassing--or all three!) . This series, "Truth Behind the Fiction," is meant to pull those individual fictionalized stories from the whole picture of my books, and tell the zany facts as I remember them.

The Fiction Part (majorly abridged): From A Safe Place to Land: Driven by a Cheetos addiction, Jag and Taryn stop at a gas station mini-mart for some snacks and drinks.  Jag pays for his order with a bunch of coins from a plastic bag in his pocket, which mortifies Taryn.

The Truth Behind the Fiction:  It was 1987, my first semester in college (before Mr. Ness showed up), and I was totally enthralled with this artsy-type guy we'll call . . . Dryer Guy (Dryer was the name of his dorm, named for Emma Dryer. I must confess I can't remember who she was, though I'm sure I knew at the time!--wink, wink).

The hair, the smirk, the pilgrim collar--Yikes!!!

Oh, yes, Dryer Guy was quite my opposite.  He was totally a free spirit, a breaker of rules, not concerned with what people thought, a non-conformist.  The only thing we had in common was our asymmetrical hairstyle.  The longer side of his hair was a little longer than mine, but that was okay because I didn't have to buy mousse as often.

And, speaking of buying mousse, one day Dryer Guy asked me to walk to the grocery store with him. So, I donned a good-ish pair of stonewashed jeans and my pink and white striped sweater (after retrieving it from whomever on my floor had most recently borrowed it) and took off for the store with the latest "love of my life."

I don't remember now what was on his grocery list.  Actually, I'm sure he didn't have a list.  That would have been much too conventional, pre-planned, uptight, and oldest child (like me) for his style.  So maybe we wandered all the aisles to see what would strike his fancy in the moment.  One item I do remember is a bag of rice.  I can still see him looking at the weight indicated on the bag and then balancing the bag in his hand as if he could weigh it there and make sure he wasn't being cheated any ounces.

So then we go to the checkouts to pay.  He set his items down on the conveyor belt like any other normal person, and we chatted as we waited for his turn.

Imagine my surprise when, after the cashier told Dryer Guy his total, DG pulled out a bread bag void of bread, but FILLED with coins, and dumped hundreds of  dimes, nickels, and pennies out on the counter.  There may have been a quarter or two mixed in there, but definitely not many!

As he began sorting out the needed amount, I turned red and glanced nervously around me, hoping no one was behind, beside, or in front of us; or anywhere near us, for that matter.  I probably tapped one of my white Keds on the floor and my fingers on the counter to rid myself of excess hyper-spastic energy.

This part I remember somewhat vividly:  As if my nervous twitching had broken his concentration, Dryer Guy turned, looked me in the eye, and, in his very direct manner, asked, "Does this embarrass you?"

I feigned a "What are you talking about?  I'm totally down with this" look and replied, a little too quickly, "No!  Why would it?"

"It's real money," he added, as though he thought I was mentally accusing him of using counterfeit.

"I know," I replied, because I couldn't think of anything clever to say.

The pink and white sweater--I did love it. :)

It took for.ever. for him to count out the exact change, not because he was dumb, but because he was buying quite a few things and it takes awhile to count out $20 worth of dimes, nickels, and pennies!

Finally, the price was paid and he had gathered the remaining change back into the bag.  As we walked back to school, I silently vowed to never again accompany him to a grocery store, and he informed me how he didn't believe in "organized dating," but rather in "hanging out."

He was a good guy.  We were never officially more than friends.  We hung out for a semester and then he left to go backpacking in Europe.

Please note:  I'm not making fun of Dryer Guy, but of myself.  He was cool.  We were just very different people, and not MFEO, as it turned out. ;)

Also, as a memory refresher, I looked up Emma Dryer and came across this short, informative article, in case anyone else is interested. :)